


Patience

by scribblemoose



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-28
Updated: 2009-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-08 22:26:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/80117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemoose/pseuds/scribblemoose





	Patience

Arthur thinks this has something to do with the state of his boots, or possibly the dents in his armour, or perhaps the fact that one of the dogs threw up on his hunting jacket and he forgot about it for a day or so. He isn't at all sure which. Merlin wasn't clear on the relative importance of any of his crimes, although they did all seem to come under the general accusatory banner of 'being an insufferable prat'. If Arthur remembered the tirade accurately - and he wasn't at all sure he did; there were various other things competing for space in his head at the moment and whatever Merlin had been yelling at him was one of the least important - there was a general (and not unusual) theme of Merlin being put-upon, abused and underappreciated. Arthur was sorry about that, but he really didn't see the connection between Merlin's feeling slighted and Merlin's consequent course of action which wasn't, as Arthur might have expected, to grumble a bit and get on with cleaning things, but rather involved shoving Arthur up against the wall by the window and kissing him. Savagely, admittedly, with rather a lot of tongue, but it wasn't exactly unpleasant.

Arthur is, to say the least, confused.

It isn't the first time Merlin has kissed him. Over the past couple of months they have moved from the occasional drunken fumble (at least, Arthur had been drunk, he never was quite sure about Merlin) to The Conversation About Men And Certain Needs They Have On Occasion, to a very equitable agreement where Merlin would share Arthur's bed for an afternoon from time to time, Arthur was considerate and honourable, Merlin was suitably grateful for his affections (at least, he didn't complain, which was quite something for Merlin), and it has all become really rather satisfactory.

But this is different. This is Merlin _taking charge_, and it certainly isn't as simple as Taking Care of Certain Needs.

"Take your shirt off," Merlin says, and to Arthur's amazement, even as he stares wide-eyed at Merlin and his audacity, Arthur does, indeed, take his shirt off. He also co-operates generously when Merlin strips his trousers open and shoves them down his thighs.

"Um," Arthur says.

Merlin just grins at him, and starts jacking Arthur's cock in long, slow strokes that make Arthur gasp and hiccup and mutter "oh, dear God, Merlin," as his eyes slide shut.

"That good?" Merlin says, which is considerate of him, except that when Arthur nods, Merlin _stops_.

To his shame, Arthur makes a whimpering noise and opens his eyes.

Merlin stands there, one hand curled loosely around Arthur's cock, the other leaning against the wall just by Arthur's head. "It's time you learned some patience," he says.

"Patience? I'm very patient!" Arthur insisted.

Merlin lifted one disbelieving eyebrow. "Oh, really? Want to make a bet on that?"

"On what? You want to take longer over your chores or something? Because if that's it I don't know why you bother asking, you always take your own sweet time anyway-umnf-"

Arthur is shut up by another sudden, brutal kiss, and he has to admit to himself that if Merlin used this as a method of communication more often he could win a lot more arguments. Arthur is just winding his tongue around Merlin's and melting back into the wall in a very satisfactory way when Merlin pulls away.

Arthur's eyes open lazily to see Merlin giving him a very stern and determined look. His palm is planted firmly over Arthur's breastbone, keeping him at least nominally fixed to the wall.

"I'll bet you all that cleaning," Merlin waves a hand negligently at the pile of boots, armour and clothing in the corner of the room, "that you don't have the patience to let me pleasure you in the way I want to."

Arthur considers this for a moment, puzzled. "Is this going to be kinky?" he asks, and then on another thought, "don't you usually like what we do?"

"Yes, yes, it's fine. It's just... quick."

To his dismay, Arthur feels a blush rise to his cheeks. "I've never had any complaints before," he says, plaintively.

"No, I'm not _complaining_. I'm just saying that..."

Arthur recovers fast from his embarrassment and his gaze turned steely. "You think I come too fast."

"No!" To Arthur's relief Merlin looks genuinely repentant. "No, I don't mean that at all, it's just... look, this would be so much easier if you let me show you." And then, as an afterthought, he adds, "And I meant it about the cleaning. I'm betting you that you don't give in and beg to... move things along."

"I would never beg," scoffs Arthur.

Merlin just grins at him, a terrifying twinkle in his eyes, and holds out his hand. "Bet?"

"Oh, alright," Arthur says, and shakes Merlin's hand.

"Good. Now get on the bed."

*

At first Arthur is irritated enough by Merlin's bossiness that it's easy to appear unaffected by what Merlin is doing with his hands. Merlin spends a good deal of time arranging Arthur as he wants him (on his back, hands above his head and crossed at the wrist, and Arthur's wondering if one day Merlin will actually have the nerve to ask to _tie him up_, shocked to think that he might even allow it) and setting a few items out on the bed, obscured by a pile of pillows so Arthur can't see what they are. Then Merlin drizzles oil on Arthur's chest. The oil is pleasantly warm and smells of rosemary.

Arthur sinks further into the quilt and lets his eyes close as Merlin starts to stroke his chest; long, clever fingers pushing and teasing the tension out of Arthur's muscles. It feels amazing. Arthur had no idea that Merlin was so talented in the art of massage.

Merlin works his way down from Arthur's chest to his stomach, then each thigh, each arm; he turns him over and kneads Arthur's shoulder and down his back until Arthur feels as though he might start purring.

Merlin's thumbs pause at the base of Arthur's spine, tracing little circles there, and Arthur is suddenly aware that Merlin is sitting astride his thighs, and there's one part of Arthur that hasn't yet been touched and that Arthur very desperately _wants to be touched_. Not the obvious place; the Little Prince is tucked neatly between his body and the nice soft quilt, predictably hard but content for now to let Merlin tease the rest of Arthur's body.

Arthur strains to lift his arse a little as a hint, but Merlin tuts at him and shoves him in the middle of the back.

"Not yet," Merlin says, and shuffles down so he can massage Arthur's legs.

Arthur keeps himself very still and concentrates on his breathing, and eventually, when Merlin has taken a really quite ridiculous amount of time massaging Arthur's thighs and calves and even his _feet_, for God's sake, he works his way back up again.

This time Arthur doesn't move, not even when Merlin's hands cup Arthur's buttocks and very lightly squeeze.

He does groan loudly into the pillow, but apparently that's allowed. Merlin continues to stroke and knead and even drops a kiss on each of Arthur's shoulder-blades, on his spine, working down and down to the hollow at the small of his back, and then..

.... he stops.

Arthur wriggles, just the slightest bit, his cock burrowing gratefully into the quilt.

"Lift up," Merlin says. "Arse in the air."

To his own surprise, Arthur finds himself doing as he's told. Cool air rushes around his cock and raises goosebumps on his flanks.

Merlin kneels behind him, and thank God, puts his hands back on Arthur's arse. But this time he doesn't rub. He runs his fingers down Arthur's crack and gently opens him up, exposing his hole, a thumb teasing the delicate skin.

For a minute Arthur thinks Merlin intends to fuck him, and is still recovering from the shocking notion that maybe he wouldn't even _mind_, when Merlin leans down, the delicious weight of his body along Arthur's back, and whispers in his ear, "I really like when you do this to me," and Arthur gasps, because he thinks, maybe, he knows what's coming next.

Merlin shifts back, and the next thing Arthur knows there's something warm and wet, Merlin's tongue, oh God, moving down his spine, inch by inch by inch, until it arrives at his arse, at his hole. Circling, pressing, circling, pressing, pressing, and then Arthur's open and scrubbing his forehead on the pillow because it feels so incredibly _good_. He's not only feeling Merlin's tongue inside him, he's remembering the noises Merlin makes when he does this to him; he understands them completely and utterly now, he understands _everything_, and Merlin's finger is inside him alongside his tongue, no, two fingers, and Merlin knows just where to stroke, where to push and Arthur cries out, can't help it.

Merlin makes a soft noise of surprise and touches the tip of Arthur's cock. Arthur jerks back, not expecting it, and by the time he thrusts forwards again, anxious for contact, Merlin's hand is gone. Arthur looks back over his shoulder to find Merlin touching his fingertip to his tongue, looking Arthur right in the eye as he says, "so wet," as he licks Arthur's precome off his skin. His finger is slick with spit when it slides back into Arthur's body and Arthur's hand is on his cock before he knows it, desperate to come...

... and then it all stops.

Merlin doesn't freeze, doesn't pause.

He takes it all away.

He takes away his fingers, his tongue, his breath, even the warmth of his long, lanky body. He's off the bed and standing there, and saying _no_, with more authority than Arthur ever imagined him capable of.

Arthur's hand falls from his cock. Merlin looks a little flushed around the cheeks and Arthur takes a good deal of satisfaction from that. Right now he'll take any satisfaction he can _get_.

"On your back," says Merlin.

"Come on, Merlin, I-"

"You're giving in?" Merlin asks, with the most devilish grin Arthur had ever seen in his entire life.

Scowling, Arthur flings himself on his back, folding his arms behind his head. "Don't be ridiculous, Merlin. Come on. Do your worst. I can take it."

Half an hour later, Arthur is almost ready to eat his words. Merlin has tortured him mercilessly with his mouth, his hands, a peacock feather, his _eyes_, for God's sake - just knowing Merlin's looking at him apparently makes him desperate with lust - and Arthur is trembling. Most recently Merlin has settled on sucking Arthur's cock. Not all of his cock. Not taking it down in one long, delicious slide to nestle the head in the depths of his throat, oh no. Merlin's licking Arthur's cock from root to tip, over and over, too softly, too wetly. He's sucking sideways on the shaft of it, he's sucking Arthur's balls, he's showering the head with kisses, anything but actually what Arthur _needs_, which is somewhere to put his cock and _fuck_.

And now, Arthur _hurts_. His balls are aching, his cock is almost numb with the torture of being hard and wanting so long, and if he didn't know that Merlin wouldn't just abandon him if he so much as tried, he'd be rutting helplessly against the nearest surface until he came.

But Merlin's stopped too many times, and Arthur just can't take it anymore.

He absolutely, definitely won't give in. He'd die first.

Which, if a person can die from not coming, and it's starting to feel like a distinct possibility, Arthur is expecting to happen very soon.

"Just ask me," says Merlin, and it's not the commanding voice, it's the soft, kind one. "Just ask, you daft prat."

"I want," Arthur gasps, flinching as Merlin teases the tip of his cock with his thumb, "I want to finish. Very much. I. Want. Please."

It wasn't begging, certainly, however high and needy his voice might have sounded - but the next thing he knows there is oil on his cock, Merlin spreading it around with a maddening lightness of touch and lack of rhythm. Arthur can't think, can't breathe, waiting for Merlin to start jerking him off properly, and then, as Merlin straddles Arthur's hips, fisting the root of Arthur's cock, he understands what's about to happen.

"I won't last," Arthur says, helplessly, but Merlin just smiles and sinks down on him, inch by impossible, tight, hot, glorious inch.

The miracle of it all is that Arthur doesn't collapse instantly into orgasm. Maybe because Merlin's kept him on the edge so long; maybe because he's just that _fucking_ good after all, Arthur doesn't care. He has enough left to survive while Merlin rides him; he even manages to give Merlin a trembling fist to fuck; it's only when he sees Merlin fall apart, sees the thick white spurt from the tip of Merlin's cock landing on Arthur's belly, dribbling down his hand; only then does Arthur finally let go.

It's tight and violent and almost-painful, stabs of the most acute and incredible pleasure Arthur's ever known. It lasts forever, turning from clenching to pulsing to soft, helpless waves. Arthur is dimly aware of Merlin's body folding on top of his; he strokes Merlin's hair with one shaking hand and drifts immediately into sleep.

*

The sky's getting dark and Arthur's fingers drift lazily down Merlin's side as they lie face to face, grinning at each other like morons.

"What're you so happy about?" Arthur says.

"I don't have to do that cleaning," Merlin says.

"Oh, yes you do. I didn't beg. Not once."

"Oh, come on!"

"When did I? When did I actually say the words 'Merlin I'm begging you?'"

"You said 'please'," Merlin says, triumphantly. "You never say 'please'. Besides. There's ways of begging without words. And you were doing _all_ of them."

He fixes his gaze on Arthur, those twinkling blue eyes that are more dangerous than a dozen griffins, and Arthur, being a man of honour, knows that he's on shaky ground. So he does the only honourable thing, considering that it's inconceivable that he could lose.

"My turn, then. Double or quits," he says, and reaches for the oil.

_~fin~_


End file.
